


Moonlight

by Raven_Ehtar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Dream Sex, Gemshipping, Kinda, M/M, More Than Usual, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Cuddling, disconnected timeline, related to previous work, the author is being self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: Ryou was no stranger to nightmares. He had plenty of them, spun from the horrors of his past, from the actions he had been forced to perform and from the memories of the spirit that dwelled within the Millennium Ring which he had been made to relive. Nightmares were a familiar, sometimes nightly stomping ground for his sleeping mind.This isn’t a nightmare. It has some of the marks of a nightmare – a pounding heart, disconnected images, intense bursts of sensation – but no nightmare Ryou had ever experienced was likethis.





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Haunted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409164) by [Raven_Ehtar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar). 



> I have no excuse for this other than I really wanted a scene like this, but there was nowhere it would fit into the narrative of _[Haunted,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409164/chapters/5328680)_ so I wrote it up separately. Consider this a bonus chapter, I guess! ♥

Ryou was no stranger to nightmares. He had plenty of them, spun from the horrors of his past, from the actions he had been forced to perform and from the memories of the spirit that dwelled within the Millennium Ring which he had been made to relive. Nightmares were a familiar, sometimes nightly stomping ground for his sleeping mind. 

This isn’t a nightmare. It has some of the marks of a nightmare – a pounding heart, disconnected images, intense bursts of sensation – but no nightmare Ryou had ever experienced was like _this._

_“Sheut…”_

No nightmare he’d ever had included Bakhura, thief king, the 3,000 year old Egyptian spirit and enemy of the Pharaoh, panting and moaning as he held on to Ryou, as he– as each of them held on to the other, their bodies moving together in the dark. No nightmare and no memory had Bakhura’s naked skin gleaming in the moonlight with sweat, nor had Ryou’s muscles aching with exquisite strain, nor had Bakhura calling out that name, the name he had given to Ryou when they had somehow met through the magic of the Millennium Ring. 

_Sheut._ The shadow of his soul. 

Ryou cannot fathom what it is he experiences – dream, memory or something between – and he doesn’t care. What matters to him is the feel of Bakhura’s skin against his own, the hardness of his muscles contrasted so sharply with the gentleness of his touch. He doesn’t remember how he came to be here and in his embrace, how it all began, and again he doesn’t care. There’s no doubt in his mind that however it came to be, it’s where he wishes to be, where he wishes to remain. 

Lips travel across his skin, over his face, down his throat. Ryou can feel his pulse throb against Bakhura’s tongue as he pauses there, giving the spot careful attention. Ryou’s breath catches, he tilts his head further back, back into the sands, and the rest of his body follows suit, arching up into Bakhura…

*

… And he is seated beside Bakhura, leaning against him, curled against his side beneath a strong arm and red robes. He blinks, befuddled, certain he’s just forgotten something, like a memory tripping over itself. What had just been happening?

He sighs and presses closer to Bakhura’s side. The place of eternal night where Bakhura’s soul resides is cold, but Bakhura is warm, and he doesn’t mind sharing his warmth. In fact, his arm tightens round Ryou’s shoulders as he comes in closer, protective, almost an embrace. It’s a little strange, to be so near and yet separate from this man whose memories he has lived himself. Strange, but not unpleasant. 

Something changes. Ryou isn’t sure what it is, but he’s sure of it. Perhaps it was Bakhura shifting, or he made a soft sound, but whatever it is, it has Ryou lifting up his head where he had begun to doze. 

As he lifts his head his eyes meet Bakhura’s, who is staring down at him. Ryou freezes instantly under that stare, hypnotized by its intensity. Bakhura doesn’t look angry or upset, but there’s something in his look which makes Ryou’s heart jump, his muscles tense. The two of them suddenly seem closer than ever, and the space they share beneath his robes seem warmer than ever.

Bakhura’s free hand comes up, fingers trace Ryou’s cheek. It’s an intimate gesture, and makes Ryou shiver despite how warm he is, how much warmer he’s becoming. Bakhura’s eyes stray downwards, to Ryou’s lips. Ryou can’t help but mirror the act, looking at Bakhura’s mouth. It seems much closer than it was, than it needs to be. 

Ryou knows what’s coming, can see the intent in Bakhura’s eyes. He sees it, and he doesn’t move away, makes no protest. In fact, he tips his head back to meet the kiss, his heart racing. He doesn’t think of why he would accept a kiss, why he doesn’t seem to mind at all… he only closes his eyes and accepts, marveling at just how _gentle_ Bakhura’s kiss is…

*

… Ryou pulls Bakhura closer, one hand behind his neck, the other looped under his shoulder. They can’t get close enough, the kiss can’t be deep enough. 

Bakhura moans into Ryou’s mouth, complying with the demands, and pulls Ryou even closer to him, pulling him up further into his lap. Ryou can feel the hardness waiting there, hidden beneath the cloth of Bakhura’s kilt. His heart beats even faster. He knows what that hardness is, a similar one strains against the denim of his jeans, and the certain knowledge of Bakhura’s erection excites and frightens him. They’re both hard, they’re both hot and panting, kissing and pawing at one another’s clothing, and it can all lead to one certain conclusion.

A doubt, the first Ryou has felt, creeps over him. He wants Bakhura, this he knows. Wants him closer, wants _more_ of him, of his kisses, his heat, his hands… but that hardness… is he ready for that?

Experimentally, Ryou shifts in Bakhura’s lap, canting his hips just _so._

Sensation rocks through Ryou, his groin and up his spine. He gasps, his voice catching as Bakhura growls low in his ear, rocking against him in response, sending a second jolt through him. 

_“Sheut.”_

Trying to catch his breath, Ryou lifts his head from where he’d let it fall onto Bakhura’s shoulder. He knows Bakhura’s eyes are violet, but in the moonlight they’re black, made more so by his blown pupils. His lips are parted, too, his breath coming in harsh, short puffs. His black eyes look over him in a sort of wonder, his hand coming up to Ryou’s face, but he does not make contact. His fingers graze over him an inch away from his skin, as though he’s afraid to touch. Ryou almost smiles. The soreness of his mouth is testament to just how not afraid to touch him he is. 

_“Nefer hedj-iah sheut,”_ he murmurs reverently.

Ryou tilts his head, almost understanding the words. 

The hand falls away from Ryou’s face, find his hips and takes hold. “ _Sheut_ , I want you.” Fingers grip Ryou and pull him forward, positioning him just so, leaving no ambiguity as to his meaning. “I desire you, your body. I want you to be mine, my own.” He looks at Ryou, whose heart, already beating hard, speeds to a wild gallop behind his ribs.

“Are you mine, _Sheut?_ ”

It’s a question that allows Ryou an avenue of escape, to back away. But it’s already too late, far too late to back away, to deny what it is Bakhura is asking. It’s possible it had been too late for a very long time. 

“Yes. I’m yours. And _I want you._ ”…

*

… Ryou cries out, clinging to the broad shoulders of Bakhura, trying to hold onto anything familiar, stable, _known_ , to counteract this feeling of invasion. 

It’s strange. Ryou has been invaded before, and in far more intimate ways than this. But this is still a shock; it still rocks down into his core and leaves him shaking. 

Bakhura stills for a moment. Ryou is grateful. Stillness allows him to adjust, to remember where and who he is. It is that last that he holds on to the tightest, for it feels the least real. He is Ryou, but is he Ryou as himself? Others have ridden his mind, been him and worn his skin, and he, Ryou, has done the same, riding along inside another’s body. _This_ body, the one he clings to so tightly. He has known what it was to have this body, to have shoulders that were so much broader than his own, the height that was so much more than his own. Ryou has known the easy strength of the body which is now pressed against him, _in_ him, and he has to hold tight to the knowledge that he is _Ryou_.

As his breathing begins to slow, Bakhura shifts slightly, and Ryou realizes that he has dug his teeth into Bakhura’s shoulder. He lets go, a little shocked at the mark that’s left behind.

“Are you alright?”

Ryou nods, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He tries to move his hips, and winces. It burns, but there’s a hint of pleasure there, too. 

Seeing him wince, Bakhura touches his face. “Shh. Remember, we have all the time we need, here.”…

*

… Bakhura tugs at the waist of Ryou’s jeans, his expression clouded. In an instant Ryou realizes the trouble. Bakhura has no idea how to undo a pair of modern pants.

Which means he will have to take them off himself. 

His cheeks burning hotter than ever before, Ryou climbs to his feet. Bakhura’s eyes never leave him, and somehow Ryou feels even more awkward standing free than he had when tangled in Bakhura’s arms. He kicks his shoes off and away into the night. With clumsy fingers, he works at the button and zipper of his pants, feeling that Bakhura would probably have had as much luck as he is now. 

He sighs in relief as the pressure against his erection is released at last. He looks up, and finds Bakhura still staring at him. For a second he hesitates, then he slides jeans and underwear down his legs, steps out and away from the crumpled clothing and stands, nude from the waist down for Bakhura to see. 

He shivers, as much from cold as from nerves as Bakhura stands. With careful hands, he takes hold of the hem of Ryou’s shirt and pulls it up and over his head, leaving Ryou completely naked in the moonlight.

_“Nefer sheut…”_

Ryou shivers again, then reaches out towards Bakhura’s robes…

*

… Bakhura thrusts upward, still holding tight to Ryou’s hips. Ryou cries out, unable to help himself and seeing no reason to try. They’re alone in an empty desert, the only one to hear his sounds the one who was causing them. 

Ryou rolls his hips, earning an appreciative hiss. He’s gotten the rhythm down better now, knows when to lift and when to come back down. The pain is long gone, and now all that remains is the pleasure, the need for closeness, for _more_.

He leans down, claiming one panting mouth with another…

*

… His kiss has become rough, but that’s alright. Everything has become rough, frenetic, a frantic edge of need besetting every move and every touch. 

Ryou rocks with the force of Bakhura’s thrusts, his back sinking further into the sand. He’s more grateful than ever for Bakhura’s robe beneath him, but more than anything he just needs _more_. He holds Bakhura close, keeping him near even as they’ve passed the point of kisses, just to have his hot skin pressed against him.

_“Sheut—“_

Ryou arches up against him. _“Bakhura—“_

—•—

Ryou woke up with a gasp, sweat pouring off of him.

He stared blindly into the dark, panting, the afterimages of the… dream? Memory? ...those afterimages still floating in front of him. For a long while he does not move, doesn’t do anything but breathe and try to remember in some sort of logical order what he just experienced as he slept. 

There is no coherency, he decides after some time. Only a tangled knot of emotions, sensations, sounds, all balled up together with no real clear beginning or end. 

It wasn’t a dream. It was all too intense, too real despite the absence of any sort of temporal continuity, Ryou has no doubts about that at all. Not a dream, and certainly not a memory…

From experience, that leaves only one possibility as to what he just experienced, to what must have just happened with the spirit of the ring. 

Ryou thought about trying to sleep again, but decided against it. It’s already late enough to be early enough to get up. And he needed a shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, for anyone who's not subjected themselves to _Haunted_ , a few unfamiliar terms and whatnot.
> 
> Bakhura: This is the name I use for TKB rather than 'Akefia.' I decided to do this after reading [this article.](https://fictatious.livejournal.com/29840.html)
> 
> Sheut: One of the five parts of the soul as depicted in Egyptian mythology and Bakhura's name for Ryou.
> 
> Nefer hedj-iah sheut: I'm being mindlessly self-indulgent with this, and probably have the borrowed language so butchered that it actually comes out as a 'me I the soup want' level of miss translation. Basically, _nefer_ = beautiful, _hedj_ = white/silver, _iah_ = moon, and _sheut_ = shadow. So, 'Beautiful silver moon-shadow.'
> 
> Thanks for reading! [I'm on tumblr](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things! ♥


End file.
